Forgiveness
by KingUnderTheHill123321
Summary: He's willing to do anything to get his forgiveness. Whatever it took. One-shot.


**Forgiveness**

* * *

I stand in the rain, letting the cold water molecules migrate themselves erratically around my frizzled black hair. I try again, banging my fist precisely into the area where I knew would be maximum sound reverberation – the exact center of the door.

"John, I understand your emotional state currently," I breathe into the crevice of the door, perhaps knowing it wouldn't be doing anything. "I – _strongly_ recommend that you allow me passage into your home."

No response.

I pull my phone out of my coat pocket, quickly bypassing the very security code I had set up (just for practice purposes), then send a text.

 _John. Open the door. I beg you._

I had sent this particular message in different wordings, a total of – I back scrolled through the message history – 85 times. I wondered if my new text would help.

"When you've eliminated the impossible," I say to myself, fishing out a crowbar and gently inserted it into the hinge of the door. "All that remains, however improbable – must be true."

I wrenched open the door, popping the hinge off. It had to be done. He had left me no choice.

I stepped through the archway, shutting the door gently behind me. I quickly examined the room I was currently in – various conclusions immediately forming in my mind.

Empty sofa – John was sleeping, additional argument – it was night. Heavy wet stains on the sides of it – consistent but not predictable – tears.

Crying. Not male – nor female – but infant.

I rushed to the nearest crib, despite myself. I looked inside, seeing a tiny human form wail lethargically as its little limbs crawled and ached.

Anxiety takes a hold of me. I quickly spot a bottle nearby, grabbing it and gently deliver it to the mouth of the baby.

"Hush little Rosa, don't say a word," I coo, turning off my deductive mind for a minute. "Sherlock's going to buy a mockingbird..."

"Why are you here?"

I am conflicted with two emotions – one instinctively protective of Rosa, another fearful of John's emergence. I turn with a shaky head, keeping the bottle in Rosa's mouth.

"I – heard crying," I let out, my voice pitch unusually imbalanced. "I – came to feed Rosa..."

"You know what I mean," John asserts, moving closer to me. "I told you – so many damn times – leave me alone, and piss off."

I purse my lips and turn back to Rosa, concluding that John's anger with me was too emotionally strenuous to respond to while feeding the infant.

"85 times, actually," I correct, quivering in place. "I – understand. But – I made a vow to – "

"Did you break into my house?"

I ignore this. "No – I gained entry, I didn't break anything..."

"Give me the crowbar."

I grip it more tightly. "For – what, John?"

"I'll forgive you," he utters, voice cold and distant. "Just give me it – and soon I'll forgive you."

A grin immediately appears on my face. I enthusiastically let go of the bottle, handing John the crowbar in intense anticipation.

"Thank you John," I mentioned, tears collecting at my eyes. "I suppose we can go back to – "

 _Crack._

My knee has been bludgeoned. I fall myself falling to the floor, grasping it in analysis – and also in pain. It was broken from the force of the blow – I look back at John, crowbar in hand with an expression of what I could identify as loathing.

"J – J – John?" I cry, tears again forming in reaction. "I thought – will this... make you forgive me?"

"Oh yeah," John agrees, voice very low now. "Just give me a few more seconds and I'll completely forgive you for all of it."

I smile again, ignoring the tear running past my face.

 _The stupid human body_ , I assume. _Reacting so emotionally to a logical demand from John..._

 _Crack._

I can't feel my cheeks – a cut has been opened there. I smile back at John, eager to visualize him back at Baker Street, sitting at the comfortable sofa with a glass of whiskey at his tips.

 _Crack._

My chest is bleeding – it is moving through my clothes. I'm not sure why I am crying so heavily now, but it seems irrelevant. The important part was that John was forgiving me.

 _Crack._

After all I did.

 _Crack._

After what I had taken from him.

 _Crack. Crack._

After all the things I put him through.

 _Crack. Crack. Crack._

I had my best friend back.

Most of my body is swollen up, and it is doubtful that I can support myself on my legs anymore. Trails of blood now are emitting from most joints in my body, with my face puffed up to the point where I couldn't see properly.

John pulls me by my hair, staring into my eyes with a malice I had not seen as a consequence to all this.

"I am _not_ your friend," he growls, shaking my scalp to add more pain. "If you come back here again – I swear, I will kill you."

He lets go, letting my head hit the bottom of the floor. I – can't logically see another pathway to obtain his forgiveness, having not seen his reaction to the end of my beating. I am crying so much that my vision is blurred now, and I wished it would stop.

"Get out," he whispers, cradling Rosa. "Don't come back here again."

My voice is too choked with sobs to say something of value, but I try to speak anyway. "J – John – if I come back tomorrow and you give me the same treatment, will you forgive me?"

He snarls at me, raising the crowbar again.

 _Crack._

"But John – "

 _Crack._

"John – "

 _Crack._

"John – "

 _Crack._

"John will you forgive me?"

He pulls me to my feet, shoving me out of the door in a hurry. I get a glimpse of his face before he shuts the door.

He is calm and composed, but I can see a livid passion behind the facade. His body language is cold but under confident.

Then the door shut, and I couldn't see him anymore.

I crawl back to the door, using my bloodied hand to bring out my phone, using the actual password this time. I try another text.

 _Good idea, John._

I pause, thinking of something.

 _Perhaps we can try again in the morning, and you can forgive me?_

I pause again.

 _Please. -SH_

I put my phone back in my pocket, wrapping my coat more tightly around my injured torso. I leaned my aching head against the door, ready for tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

And for the month.

And for the year.

Whatever it took.

* * *

 **A/N**

 _Super-psyched for the new episode tomorrow! Soooooooo sad to see Sherlock and John fighting right now... :( that last episode absolutely deaded me..._

 _Please review/favorite/follow!_


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